The Sun. — London, England, 1838-01-09 00:00:00

LITERATURE. FOREIGN QUARTERLY REVIEW. Black and Armstrong, London, 1838. A periodical ever welcome, for it is sure to contain, at least, two or three articles abounding in interest, on matte:; relative to Continental literature. The gem of the Vteent Number is a notice of " Knebel's Posthumous Works and Correspondence," which includes also a 'brief biographical sketch of a quiet, learned, and. 'auafrected German writer, who died, in the year 1834, at the advanced age of ninety. Knebel, who was originally in the Prussian army, in the service of Frederick the Great, retired on the death of that mortaTch to Weimer, where he was appointed tutor to the Grand Duke's son —a situation which brought him ac• nnainted with many of the leading authors of Germany, by whom he was deservedly respected, though, beyond the !ite rarycircles, his name was wholly unknown. Knebel's greatest work—that for which he is now most. celebrated—is his translatio n of Lucretius, which the Reviewer assures us, tu many instances, surpasses the original. We quote the sketch of his literary character : " As a philosopher Knebel is worthy of deep study, and not the less so, that he never puts his opinions into - a system. A meditative inan with a good stock of common sense, who had also seen a great ideal of the world, and lived in the enjoyment of health and quietness for ninety long years, with nothing else to do than to think, must needs have thought no small quantity of sense in his day. lie had some peculiar opinions ; but his peculiarities were rather negative than positive, and did not in the least disturb the general clearness and soundness of his judgment. As a poet, Knebel belongs to the calm, clear Greek school, which has lately become so unfashionable, hut which we prize so highly. That mistiness of feeling and wateri. loess of sentiment so characteristic of the romantic school in Germany, finds no home in this pure region. Knebel is as far from romance as Goethe ; and indeed there is in his productions much of the spirit and character of Goethe's best minor poems. The same calm, self sustaining wisdom, and the same mild breath of cheerful kindliness is characteristic of both. Both Goethe and Herder had a high opinion of Knebel's poems ; and if they do not live after many that arc now Buttering through fifth, sixth, and seventh editions, futurity will not have paid her debt to the present. As to the execution, they are harmonious and tasteful. Calm simplicity is their leading character; and this simplicity is never disturbed by the ornamental adjunct of rhyme." We have marked in italics one or two grammatical inac curacies in the above extract, which show much haste and slovenliness. In the essay headed " Popular Elementary Instruction," we find some curious details respecting the system of education now going forward in Lombardy and some other of the Italian States. "Of the whole number of children," observes the Reviewer, " between the ages of six and twelve years in Lombardy, the proportion which frequents the schools differs in the various provinces. It appears that on an average of the whole, 680 in every thousand boys of the proper age frequent the public schools, and 428 in every thousand girls. The deficiency in the attendance of the girls is in part accounted for, by the more numerous private establishments for their education." We had no notion that education was so general in Lombardy it would seem, however, by the foregoing extract, that it/ is far in advance of England in this respect—a fact which ought to cover us with shame, especially as we are so incessantly boasting of the surprising beneficial effects that " the march of mind" is daily producing among us! " Early German Comic Romances," is a very amusing es say, and details the freaks of some of the roguish heroes of these old tales, who remind us, in the fertility of their in vention, and the utter recklessness of their whimsical knaveries, of those infinitely diverting scamps, the Spanish rogues. Churchmen have always been favourite subjects for waggery among all nations ; and accordingly we find that a parson figures among the prominent rogues of one these early German romances. " The Constitution of Hanover," takes up the cudgels in favour of King Ernest, who, in the Reviewer's opinion, has acted throughout with moderation. The article is cautiously expressed, and con cludes by a request that its readers will wait the result of " the deliberations of the States," before they vonture to form an opinion, as Englishmen know as yet little or no thing of the true nature of the Ilanoverian question. Of the remaining articles, the most elaborate and instructive is the one entitled, " Mineralogical Travels in the Ural and Altai Mountains." ILLUSTRATED FAMILY BIBLE. Smith and Elder, London, 1838. We have just seen the first Number of a new Family Bible, which is embellished in the most careful and beaUC ful style ; and contains copious explanatory notes, and marginal references from the pen of the late John Brown, Minister of Haddington. The work, considering the handsome manner in which it is got up, is singularly cheap is price, and is published in the convenient form of Nurn hers. The type in which it is printed is distinct and legi ble, and may be read by weak, or old eyes, without the aid of spectacles. THE WORKS OF JEREMY BENTHAM. Now first collected, under Me superintendance of his Executor, Jon .v BOWRING. Part 1. Edinburgh, William Tait, 1838. The publication of a complete edition of Bentham's Works is an undertaking which calls for the sympathy, the support, and the gratitude of that class of Reformers whose inquiries and labours are directed to the improvement, and consequent consolidation, of whatever is radically good in our social institutions. 'We question if the world ever pro duced a benefactor of the human species who so exten sively influenced the opinions of the age in which he lived, in a manner so indirect, as Jeremy Bentham. Livin g for many years in a state of nearly utter seclusion in the ob scurest part of a rather disreputable neighbourhood in Westminster, and only known as the author of works which all had heard of, but of which not one in ten thousand had ever read a page, Europe re-echoed his opinions with scarcely a consciousness that she bad ever heard them. The fact was that the fountains of knowledge opened by Bentham fed the reservoirs from which most of the political writers of his day drew those supplies which the bulk of mankind regarded as wholly and exclusively the property of their respective social oracle. Bentham cared not who bor rowed his opinions, or whether they were taken with, or without acknowledgment, provided they were well received by those for whose happiness they were first promulgated. He wa s content to make the world wiser and better, without troublin g himself about the estimate at which it might erro neously be at first led to value his services. The founda tion of his fame he knew to be too sure to give himself any concern about the appropriation of his labours by unscrupu lous c :ntemporaries who, to prevent as much as they could any exposure of their thefts, never omitted an occasion of representin g his works as little better than a mass of ill-di gested unintelligibly jargon. But the time is conic when Bentha m shall have justice done to his memory ; and though it must be acknowledged that he wrote verbosely and almost unintelligibly upon many subjects, we know of no author who exceeded him in clearness of conception, lucidness of arrangement, and transparency of style, in the composition of those works which ase destined to hand his name down to the veneration of posterity. Like the first discoverers in science, Bentham found himself under the necessity of inventing a number of terms to express the names of things not previously known, and also the relation in which he designed them to stand to each other ; but a little attention to his own carefully logical definitions of them in the order in which they first occur will render their meaning familier to readers of the most moderate capacity. The alleges! difficulties in the study of Bentham's embodi ment of his principles and thoughts will vanish with the first effort to overcome them. The edition, of which the first Part is now before us, promises to be a very handsome one. It is beautifully printed in double columns in a small but clear type, and On very good paper. Still the price seems to us too high --the more especially as the class of persons who would be Most desirous of obtaining Bentham's Works, cannot well afford the outlay °Nine shillings at a time in the purchase of part of a book. The better way, in our opinion, would be to publish it in Monthly Numbers at half-a-crown, and doubl e N umbers, at five shillings each—a method quite as convenient for the wealthiest purchasers as that which Tait has adopted. The portrait of Bentham, which faces the title -page of this edition of .his works, is from an excellent likeness of him by Piekersgill. The engraving of the heal is very fairly executed. R. VIE TY, FINANCIAL, STATISTICAL, and COMMERCIAL, of the EMPIRE of BRAZIL. By J.. 1. STUDY:. Londo n .I_l 7- 'ffinghain Wilson, 1838. Briti s h statesmen,' merchants, and political economists win find t hi s work worthy of their notice. Its object is to 4110 W that our trade with the Brazilian Empire might be increased to an almost infinite extent, with great profit to ourselves, and advantage—social, political, and commer 'al--to the w h o l e o f the i n h a bi tants o f S out h A mer i ca. arile auth or ' s arguments, many of which are very ingenious, e founded on the evidence of facts, supplied by a mass of aothattlitnis sYhifeb it must have cost him much time anet trouble to collect and arrange in the }`acid foktAi is which they ',eta given in these pages . , fill'C fnilOWlng extract will elucidate more 00303' i Zhail our space will enable us to tbo titilloitiance of the subject of a volume from which it• mass of valuable mercantile information Yi,; Act teed : "At a time when British (wirer-FA, is extending itself to many more dtateett evt . tUi'triFs, and when new fields are daily required for employment of the accumulating capital of thte thattiants of England, it has appeared to the writer that a few statistical notices, on so extensive, fertile, well-situated, salubrious, and, it may now be justly added, well-governed coun'ry as Brazil, might be received with some interest, par ticularly when accompanied by tabular and official documents, which will be found in this work, corroborative of his premises. " From these documents it aid be perceived that the annual imports of British produce and manufactures into Brazil are considerably more than one-third the amount imported, in ordinary times, into the United Sates; equal to the whole amount imported into the British East India possessions, in cluding Ceylon ; and equal to the amount imported into Russia, Prussia, Norway, Denmark, Sweden, and France combined ; and considerably exceeding the amount of all the republics of South America. together; doubling that of all Africa, including Mauritius and St. Helen's ; whilst so fertil e i s the soil, an d so f avoura b le the climate ofßrazil, that labour alone is required for the extension of its agricultural exports, and its corresponding imports of manufactures to an unlittited extent. " The population of Brazil receives daily accessions by emi gration from both of the kingdoms of the troubled peninsula, and no inconsiderable addition from Germany, Italy and France. Its wealth and intelligence increase at a more than ordinary ratio, by means of its numerous splendid ports, which bring its population into daily intercourse nith the nations of all the world : and from its climate being so mild, and the productions of its soil so various and so valuable, and so easily reared, that not the slightest inducement exists for manufac turing pursuits, it is no doubt destined to become more im portant to England as a market for sale of manufactured goods, and purchase of raw materials, than any other part of the globe. "The documents on finan:•ial topics are front aithentic sources, and were translated by the author in the full conviction that none so important and interesting have been presented to to the Eng:ish public for a considerable time, or conveying so accurzte a knowledge of the present financial and monetary position of Brazil." THE CATHOLIC DIRECTORY FOR 183e.il Simpkin and Marshall. No Roman Catholic should be without this work to whom a knowledge of the state of the Hierarchy of that Church in every part of the United Kingdom is not a matter of indifference. It contains lists of the churches, charities, schools, officiating prelates and priests, in Eng land and Scotland, and of the parochial clergy and curates in Ireland. The cost is so trifling that we hardly know how it can be published without loss. Its embellishments consist of portraits of Cardinal Weld and Dr. Wiseman. MR O'CONNELL. MEETING TO COMPLETE THE BUILDING OF ST. ANDREW'S CATHOLIC CHURCH WEST LAND ROW. Three o'clock, P.M., Sunday, Jan. 7, 1838. A meeting to complete the building of St. Andrew's Ca tholic Church, Midland-row, has just now concluded. Mr. O'Connell, who is a parishioner of this parish attended, and was, of course, the chief attraction of the meeting. His presence, on the occasion was the mere hailed, in consequence of the Hon. Gentleman having been confined for the last eight or ten days by a severe cold. The Very Rev. Dr. Me) ler, P. P., presided, and as soon as the Secretary, the Rev. Mr. Ennis read a statement to the effect that since the building had commenced, April 1832, not six years ago, the sum of upwards of 17,000!. had been raised by subscriptions of the parishioners. They were only in debt the cypher of 70/. odd, and they required about 1,200!. more to bring the edifice to a complete conclusion—as soon, I repeat, as this statement was made, Mr. O'Connell rose to propose a vote of thanks to those disinterested men who at a sacrifice of their time, made weekly subscriptions. Mr. O'Connell dwelt upon the effect of the voluntary principle at great length—the mutual attachment and fidelity of the Catholic clergy and Catholic people—how they came out of a persecution of three centuries more faithful and more numerous than they entered into it. Among the entire, he said, of the Irish Bishops, only two of them during this period had been faithless, and one of them was an Englishman. There was one thing necessary to the perfect completion of the church in his (Mr. O'Connell's) opinion, and that was a steeple.—(Cheers.) He himself would become the collector for that steeple. The nature of the building would admit of a square tower being erected on its top, and from this tower a spire should ascend which would point out to every mariner, as he entered the bay, a certain and safe landmark.—( Cheers.) He hoped that the steeple would be erected by the time his excellent friend, Mr. John Power, was Lord Mayor. He would be rejoiced to see three fourths of the Corporation coming they, to that church, and coming, Sir, (said Mr. O'Connell, addressing the very Rev. Chairman) to hear your mass.—( A ►augh.) Mr. O'Connell then said that he had been reading a Protestant author that day, Sir Robert Atkins, who stated that before the Reforma tion there were 55,000 Churches in England, and 42,000 pri ♦ate Chantrys (I think he called them), or Chapels of Ease. This was the case when Catholic bounty, springing alone from true devotion to Religion, was in operation. What, he would ask, was the case now, when taxation for the purpose existed? There were now but 11,000 churches in England. It might not be fair to enumerate those only belonging to the establishment. By a singular coincidence there were about 11,000 between dissenting and Catholic. So that in all there were now but 22,000, and if he remarked that the population had increased twofold, then the present population had only 22,000 churches, while half the population under the free principle had 97,000 I He hoped this fact would go abroad. He had achieved one great object. Formerly Catholics were obliged to pay for Protestant churches. They are no longer obliged to do so.—( Cheers.) He had effected that change —(Hear, hear)—and he had reason to know—he was con vinced that this present session tithes upon his plan, would be totally done away with—would follow Church-rates.—( Loud cheers.) After the usual resolutions, arid an eloquent eulo 'glum on Mr. O'Connell from the chair, the meeting broke up. Mr. O'Connell had a large fur comfortable round his neck, a sort of mitred cap on his head, and wore two heavy cloaks. The Hon, gentleman spoke quite firmly and healthily, and considering his late indisposition looked remarkably well. --- We believe that there is no foundation for the report which appeared in The Observer of Sunday last, and sr; copied in this Journal yesterday, rela'ive to the institution or a new order of kuightliood.—Morning Chronicle. THE ROMANTIC AGE OF SPAlN.—Spain has beau fortunate in her English historians. The prime of her glory was pictured by Robertson in his " Charles the Fifth." The commencement of her decline was described by Watson and Thompson, in their " Philip the Second." Her decay awl dotage were undertaken by Dunlop and Coxe. The youth and manhood o that once powerful and chivalrous people have faller, into the hands of an American, Mr. W. H. Prescott, who is not unworthy of coping with Robertson in brilliant c.nnposition, or in the more solid qualities of an historian. The reign of Ferdinand and Isabella of Castile, which forms the subject of Mr. Prescott's history, is not only singular and interesting in itself, but important as a crisis in the affairs of Europe. Under this reign, Spain was, for the first time, combined into one monarchy through the nuptial union of the crowns of Aragon and Castile ; the conquest so renowned in song of the moorish kingdom of Granada, and the reduction by war and policy of the kingdom of Navarre. The events and characters of the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, in ad dition to their greatness, have attractions also of a very va ried nature.. This very important and interesting subject has been undertaken by a man well qualified t , .) do it jus.ice. Prescott possesses considerable powers, improved by study, and a mind well stored by reading, research, and meditation upon the particular period to which he Las devoted himself. Spectator. ELOPEMENT AND HORSE -STEALING.-At the Essex Quarter Session, which commenced on Tuesday, a fellow named Jay was sentenced to fifteen years' transportation for horse -stealing. The Chairman said it was a very great offence, inasmuch es the prisoner had on the Sunday night not only stolen the prosecutor's horse, cart, and harnevs, but bad absolutely taken away another man's wife. For wh.A other purpose, said the learned Chairman, than to avoid a prosecution, could you be going to America ? Pri,oner— "To see my father in-law, who lives there." Most of the witnesses in this case had travelled a distance of 90 miles from their homes to attend the trial. Day, the husband of the young woman, we understand, is very respectably con nected. We hear that it is in contemplation to build en hotel at the West-end, on the most gigantic scale ;it will be so arranged as to be capable of dining 1,200 persons. It is in tended to resemble Meurice's, both as regards the building and the management. Attached to the hotel will be extensive gardens, with fountains and jets d'eau for the convenience and pleasure of the frequenters thereof. Carriages will be kept in constant readin ess to run to and fro to the terminus of the great railways. The building will be erected by a company having a capital of 100,0001. We have been favoured by a spring-knife manufac turer with the sight of the most splendid knife it has been our fortune to see. The description of it is as follows :—A tor toise-shell knife, containing pen and pocket blade, pair of scis nail file, woo d an d b ow saw, horse p i c k er , s g a i r m s 1 , e b t button-hook, o d n - h oo k, needle in the horse picker, double-jointed corkscrew and punch, lancet, picker, and tweezers: every article closing and falling completely flush with the handle. y The knife had the most elegant appearance when all were shut, as nothing was then to be seen but tortoise shell and gold ; the backs of every article, except those under the horse picker and under the miles, were covered with the fittest gold. The filing of the bolsters was beautifully fine ; altogether it bed a most splendid appearance. The workman was nearly four weeks in making it. The knife contains about 101. worth of fine gold, and the workmanship is considered by competent judges to be perfect.—Shtjfield Paper. A wager was made that, at a recent meeting of the Town Council, a newly-elected Legal Member, in the Con servative interest, would address the House a score times—aq account was accordingly kept, by which it appeared that the Gentleman in question delivered his sentiments upon different subjects thirty-six times.—Bristol Mercury. DitURY.LANE THEATRE. Perseverance in mast pursuits itt life is 6-taiti of its re ward. It pill not niake Ere I'3 ' be li eve nor will it give genius to an actor ; but that it will improve both, no ens can deny. The first publica tion of Byron certainly shored little sigas of goniu3 ; his versification and poetical genius were not better than thosr of hundreds of schoolboys whose rhyavrs die before they leave school ; and had he given way, and submitted to the scoffings of the great oracle of the day in the art of criticism, the world would have lost much, and Ilk would never have attained the great object of his ambition, —tl:e honour of being the first poet of the ago. Comparing great men With small, like the poets, we are justified from what we witnessed last evening in applying the same re marks to Mr. Kean. Few men can claim more merit for perseverance even under the most disheartt:ning circum stances. About eleven years ago he first attracted the no tice of a Londoa audience, more from the enthusiasm which they had fur his father's name than from any symptoms of genius, or any hope that he would overcome the many and great defects with which his acting abounded. The public voice and the press decided unequivocally against him, and he retired to the country disappointed, but not disheartened. He made a second appearance five years ago, improved certainly, but still deficient in the qua'ities which would entitle him to hold more than a respectable rank among tra;edians. He then undertook another five years' apprenticeship, and having gained golden opinions at Edinburgh, Liverpool, and Dublin, he ventured last evening for a third time to challenge the judgment of a London audience. All wished him success. The recollection of his father's acting—the large sums to which, but for indiscriminate generosity or something worse, he might have been heir—his moral character and his unconquerable perseverance, enlisted many on his side ; and the consequence was a reception as full, hearty, and unequivocal as any that ever welcomed an actor. During the first two acts, we believe his warmest admirers trembled for the issue. There were traces of his original defects, and the solemn, plaintive, and almost subdued air and voice with which he delineated " that within which passeth show," did not bespeak the fearless and revengeful Hamlet. The manner in which he recited the celebrated pas sages, " Oh that this too, too solid flesh would melt," and " To be, or not to be," raised better hopes ; but still there was wanting that dignified expression, and that chastened eloquence, by which Kemble and Young carried with them an admiring audience. If he was 'defi cient there, he equalled, perhaps surpassed them, in more trying scenes. The performance of the third act left no doubt that he has many of the qualities of a great ac tor. His directions to the players were given with much judgment and taste, and met with due applause ; but the first decided impression which he made, was in the animated scene where Hamlet comments on the play, and tells the King " 'tis a knavish piece of work—but what of that ? Your Majesty and we that have free souls—it touches not us I Let the galled jade wincc,our withers are unwrung,"and brings the murder home to the guilty breast, and drives the King and Queen, overwhelmed with shame and despair, from his presence. The greater part of the chamber scene with the Queen evinced high powers of acting, and particularly that part when, overcome with ungovernable sorrow for his father's death, and hatred for his murderer, he forgetshia own safety, and in holding before her the glass —to see the inmost part of her mind—he forces her to call for help. Perhaps the least effective part of this scene was the description of the two pictures ; but the act throughout was performed with consummate skill and stirring energy—the acting was natural. It showed no traces of mannerism, or theatri cal preparation, and the audience bore willing testimony to its merits. On the whole we may safely pronounce that his success was triumphant. He has still many defects. His voice is often husky. He is at times too rapid in his pronunciation, and at others too slow, approaching almost to langour. He has not a little of the mannerism of Macready, and resembles his father in some of his de fects, but he resembles him also in the energy and fire of his acting. His person is good, and his attitude and man ner chaste and graceful. He holds out the fairest pro mis of success. We give the opinions of most of our contemporaries, in order that the public may judge of that " Press . ' which Mr. Kean declares is hostile to him. (From the Morning Chronicle.) Charles Kean made a very triumphant re-entry into the metropolis last night in the character of Hamlet. If we are not mistaken, this is in fact the third time he has made his essay before a London audience, but it is but just to consider it his debut, his previous efforts having been rather boyish though promising attempts than mature exhibitions of his rowers and qualifications. We shall therefore feel justified in treating it as a species of first appearance, and looking at it in this light, we feel no hesitation in pronouncing it a very fine, and perhaps, on the whole, a first-rate performance. We give this opinion after a most attentive watching of the undertaking from the earliest to the latest scene, and throughout with a sincere desire to give the actor every possible credit for ability of the highest order. At the same time we do not think that we permitted this desire to run away with our judgment, so that we be lieve we have arrived at- a fair estimate of his talents. We happen to have seen every Hamlet on the London boards from John Kemble down wards, and we own that he is the only actor that ever came up to our idea of the title mcdc in which the part ought to be represented. If we were to give the characteristics of the different Hamlets for the last 30 years, we should say that John Kemble was princelike and intellectual ; Holman, dignified but cold; Cooke, coarse but clever; Ekiston, pas sionate but careless; Rae, judicious but formal ; Young, powerful bnt hasty; Kean, spirited but patchy; Macready, original and vigorous; Butler, studied and sombre; and Charles Kemble highly wrought, but artificial. From the first production o f H am l et, it is probable, there have been but live actors of the hero who cou ld b e placed in the very foremost rank, or one for about every fifty years ; viz., Bu r b age, B et _ terton, Garrick, Henderson, and John limbic. Of course we except living performers from our enumeration, as their places are yet to be finally dnterminel Every corner of the theatre was filled last night before the rising of the curtain, and when Charles Kean came forward in the second scene he was greeted by huzzas, bravos, and congratulotory demonstrations of every kind, including the waving of hats and handkerchiefs, while the pit rose to welcome him. He made what return he could by repeated bows to all parts of the house, and obviously was somewhat disconcerted by the fervour of his friends : indeed, we think it was more than was judicious, whether we regard the effect on the general temper of the audience or the actor. Afterwards, especially in 'the two last acts, the applause was considerably moderated ; but it is to be recollected that they contain few points to be made by the principal tragedian, and that all the best portion of the character of the hero, either as regards writing or acting, is coatalned in the three first divisions of the tragedy. On this account the policy of choosing Hardet for a first appearance may be doubted. One of Charles Bean's reasons doubtless was, that he might avoid the charge of imitating his father, as we are assured that he never saw him in the part; but the likeness is innate and inevitable, and all who re memaer Edmund Kean, even though they had never been present at his Eamb t, would feel sure that he and his son must deliver certain pas sages very much with the same manner and intonation. The resemblan c, alo, in face and figure is remarkable, and as far as respects features that resemblance is much stronger now than five or six years ago. In point of external form the son has the advantage, both in height and symm try; but on the whole, nobody can hesitate an instant as to the near relationship of the two. The voice also corresponds now mare than it did when Charles Kean was last in the metropolis ; it has ac quired some portion of the father's huskiness, but it is not deficient in melody, particularly when a melancholy impression is to be conveyed by it, and the consequence is that Charles Kean is too apt to deviate into this tone, when in fact the occasion does not seem to require it. We cannot help thinking that last night is • hardly to be taken as a fair specimen of his voice, because he seemed to be suffer ing from a co'd, and was more r.asal in his delivery of seve ral parts of the play than, we apprehend, is natural to him. Towards the close Le might be said to be absolutely hoarse, at least such seas our !intim and that of persons who sat near us. His enunciation is some. what too slow and measured, and even in the lighter portions of the tragedy—such, for instance, as the scene wiih the players, with the grave-digger, and with Osrick—he was elaborately emphatic. To over emphasise (if we may use the word) is in our view objectionable, two we by no means agree with those who think that every syllable ought to be uttered with its peculiar force. It is painful to our ear when a n actor finishes too highly in this way. Same passages ought to be de livered evenly and smoothly, and the measure and music of the lines is injured by a too obvious attempt en the part of the actor to show, not only that he understands the full weight and value of every word given by the author, but that he sees meanings which people have not before discovered. Some meanings are so clear, that it is a sort of offence to the understanding of the auditor to illustrate them with especial pains taking in the utterance. There is one particular, though a trifle, in which Charles Kean dif fers from his father, and perhaps from every Hamlet yet seen on the stage. He never thought of turning his stocking down to prove the carelessness of Hamlet as to his personal appearance, after he is sup posed to be deranged. We own we like this innovation, for we always thought the contrary practice absurd, especially when, as we have seen some Hamlets, the stocking was so formally rolled over the calf of the leg as to afffird proof that a great deal of trouble had been taken with the arrangement. If the performer of Hamlet cannot sufficiently show he is mad without this aid, we are sorry :or him, Nevertheless, we have litheclosest that Betterton appeared ungartered, and very like he had it from tradition before the Restoration. As to the new readings of the part, at this time of day they are nearly out of the question, and we own that we do not like tortuous experiments of the kind, however ingenious. Some. of the old read ings, those of established usage, are ha I enough, and we should ho—e bean glad to se e Ch ar l es K ean d are to b e original enough to avoid them. We will give an instance. In the soliloquy at the end of Act 11. oc curs this passage supposed to be addressed to the King, who of course is not on the stage— " Bloody, bawdy villain ! Remorseless, treacherous, 1. cherous, kindless villain." Here the word " kindless" has no sort of reference to the kindliness or the want of kindli ness i n t h e Ki ng, b ut the meaning relates to his in humanity, etymologically speaking: he is " kindless," because he is unlike his kind or species, in consequence of the enormousness and, blackness of his vi ces; b u t th e i n t erpretat i on usually given to t h e word by actors gives them such' a fine opportunity for a transition that they cannot resist it, and it was too much for Charles Kean as well as for others. If we recollect rightly, this was not one of John Kernif if6 readings, but was induced by Young. Charles Kean is prone to the contrasts for which his father was remarkable; but still' they are not so violent, and in his Hamlet there is more of sustainA and pervading ex cellenee—more entireness and completeness, for it is quite evident that he has given the part most patient and diligent study. He was gui tf i of one novety, fdr Such it struck us to be; in his first soliloquy. In I the lines— ''; dr ibthe iii'vtl64lr4 flail d iia 4 d is canon I gainst self-f l aughlCT! -- 0 4 ) 0.1.61 i How weary, stale, flat, a::d unprofitable," ke. made the ejatNeation " Qod, 0 God ;" belong to the first part of the nassage, and not to the last line, intorduciug a pause. We [hi,* he was right, or, at all events, there is nothing very wrong in this change, and it gave him an opportunity for a transition dropping from a tone of pas si,n, at the top of his ♦oice, to a more conversational pitch. NVc may also with great justice praise the delivery of the principal soliloquy, and ,he expression he gave to the words " from whose bourn no traveller returns." He did not, like a modern actor, appear to be pricking a hole with a pin when he talked of a man making his" quietus with a bare bodkin ;" and we give him credit for adhering to the meaning of the ,met. If we were to name the weakest scene of the tragedy in the hands of Charles Kean we should point out the directions to the players, which we have heard much better given by far inferior actors ; ha plactql in the middle of the stage, the player at one corner, and then harangtied him in a sort of 5..-t spoech or lecture, instead of filing the Instructions in en easy, quiet, taut impressive manner. The closet scene fntiltl ttot perhips be Unproved, especially on the appearance of the Ghost, when actor's. whole soul seemed absorbed by its preternatural presence. This reminds us that we ought to mention, that in what may be called Hamlet's first interview with his father's spirit, though it is in fact divided into two sconce, Charles Kean dropped on his knees twice, first at the wards— " I'll call thee Hamlet--. King, father, Royal Dane!" which we do not disapprove, if he did not too deliberately take off his hat; and next, as the Ghost is retiring, rising at the words— " And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up," which had rather an odd effect, and we think had better be avoided. However, we must not enter farther into detail. The fencing match, in the last scene was well conducted both by Charles Kean and King, who played Laertes ; it was a very graceful exhibition, but too long, and the death of Hamlet was also unnecessarily protracted, we think, to the injury of the effect of the catastrophe. In a smaller theatre the impression might be different, but not one-third of the audience last night could discern the dying contortions of the actor, even supposing it desirable that those contortions should be exhibited. After the curtain had fallen, Charles Kean received what the French, in whom the practice originated, call l'honneur du rappel : he came forward and bowed repeatedly ; but some people seemed foolishly to fancy that he ought to make a speech. Hats and handkerchiefs were again waved in all parts of the house; and, as far as applause and one night's trial goes, the actor has nothing to complain of. How many times he may be called upon to repeat the part of Hamlet we cannot guess; but Henderson_used to say, seventy years ago, that there were at lea t thirty audiences in ,London : if there were thirty audiences then, there ought to be fifty now. Nevertheless, Henderson, in his first season at the Haymarket, only played Hamlet, if our memories serve us, nine nights. Whenever it is necessary to resort to them, Charles Kean has plenty of other parts for the gratification of the town —Richard, Othello, Lear, &c., without travelling beyond Shakspeare. (From the Timm) After a long and very successful probation in the provinces, Mr. Chas. Kean last night again appeared on those boards where, a few years since, when a mere boy, he endeavoured to conciliate public favour. That was an immature and ill-juiged attempt, and, as might be ex pected, was a failure. The mind of the play-going public was still filled with a vivid recollection of the transcendant talents of the elder Kean, who'had temporarily retired, and, however kind their feelings might be towards the young aspirant, they could not avoid showing their discon. tent at the incapacity of the nominis umbra, who thus early sought, or more probably perhaps was solicited, to vault from the school-room into the then vacant tragic chair. Defeated, in this instance, he did not abandon the profession. He laboured to improve himself, and sub sequently appeared at Covent-garden and the Haymarket. At each of these theatres his exertions effected nothing for the manager in the way of money—nothing for the actor in the way of fame. Still he was not disheartened. A long course in the provinces, he thought, would do him service. If he succeeded there, lie felt that much of the trepi. dation and awe which before a London audience in a great degree paralyzed his powers would be removed, and that he would have a fair and honest hold of the feelings of those who came in a just and honest spirit to w;tness his performance. We like these strugglings against untoward circumstances. They bespeak the workings of a deter mined mind, which thinks, however the world may have been in clined to slight it, that there is within itself germs, not merely of ta lent but of genius. Thus much for the early efforts of Mr. Charles Lean ; now for what we may call the real debut, when experience and judgment have come to the aid of his natural facuities, and made him, in one character, certainly, that of Hamlet, an accomplished, elegant, and when the scene requires it, an energetic actor, without bombast. Such, we think, were the characteristics of his performance last nigl.t. He has taken a fine philosophical view of she character. The ground. Work is melancholy abstraction, sometimes diverted from its vein by the recollection of circumstances which elicit passion, or by the interference of Court.flies, who sting a gallant nature to sarcasm and reproach, by their sinister actions. The sombre hue of the character was well pre served by Mr. Kean ; and those occasional bursts of tearful passion which are elicited by Hamlet's knowledge of his father's fate, and his own irresolution in not at once doing execution on the murderer, were finely contrasted with his general melancholy. Mr. Kean delivered the soliloquies with great feeling, and consequently with great effect. We look, however, for his excellences in the more active scenes of the play. His rencontre w ith his father's spirit, whereastonishment, awe, and reve rence were commingled, was finely acted. The celebrated scene with Ophelia was well-imagined, and was as well placed before the audience. Here Mr. Kean was wholly different from any person we have ever be fore seen in the character. There was enough of violence in his man ner to justify the grossly-lascivious king in saying— " Love 1 his affections do not that way attend;" but these was also enough of tenderness and delicacy to show to ten derer and more delicate minds that his vary heart-strings were break ing, while in his assumed frenzy he was saying unkind things to one whom he entirely loved. The closet-scene with his mother was acted with great power. His attitude and look, when, having slain Palo. nius, he rustles in exclaiming, " Is it the King ?" filly deserved the immense applause which followed one of the most striking scenic ex hibitions which we have witnessed fur a long time. In the play-scene Mr. Kean was good ; but though at the conclusion he received much applause, there was less marking about it, less force, less power thau we have seen exhibited by others. His concluding scene was good. He fences not merely gracefully, but skilfully. We need not say that the house was oa this occasion crowded from the pit to the ceiling. The jury before whom Mr. Kean appeared was not a packed one There was no indiscriminate applause ; assuredly, where applause was given, and the instances were very freqeent, It was well merited. Look ing to the whole of Mr. Kean's performance, we were greatly pleased with it. It may, howeyer, be rendered even better. His pauses are in man instances, so long that he fails to make the point at which he is aiming. Again, he carries the weeping sentimentality of Hamlet into situations where be is a mere abstract speculator. The beautiful Ines commencing " Imperious Caesar dead, - and turned to clay" do not want tears to enforce their moral—the Nothingness of defunct mortality. Mr. Kean's reception was of the most cheering description. When he appeared, the applause from every part of the house was en th and throughout the evening the same an xi o u s wi s h t o en courage us e hope, now no longer str ugg li ng ) mer i t, was o b serva bl e. A t t h e conclusion of the tragedy, h e was l ou dl y ca ll ed f or—and h e made, very gracefully, his ob e i sances, t o a muc h -del i ghted audience. He cer tainly has succeeded in g i v i ng a very e l egant and f i n i shed portrait of Hamlet—what he will d o w ith th e Ri c h ards and Macbeths i s yet to be ias t i c; ( w proved. That he has mind for them, we can imagine—but, as yet, we ca nnot speak with any thi ng lik e decision of his physical powers. Mrs. Ternan's Gertrud e d eserves a very f avourable notice. She was sensible, in every part of her p er f ormance; b ut, i n t h e closet scene, w h ere, to her, Hamlet seems to address the incorporeal air, she evinced much ability. Mr. Dowton's Polonius was correct, the text was given arm. rattly, but the humour was suffered wholly to evaporate. Mr. King played Laertcs. When the late Mr. Kemble was asked what he thonght o f Mr. Conway, he answered, " Why, I think that he is d very tall young man;" and precisely the same criticism will do for Mr. King. Mr. Brindal, as Osrick, was sufficiently gay and foppish. How is it that this very good representative of light pleasant parts is so often obliged to attempt the sentimental? Mr. Cooper, who appeared as the ghost of Hamlet's father, read the part well. Ophelia, the pretty, the gentle, the delicate, was personated by Mi , s Romer. She sang the unhappy maiden's snatches of old ballads in a bravura style, with more of show than nature. We had nearly forgotten, and it would have been unjust if we had, the representative of the first grave digger, Mr. Compton. lie sustained she character exceedingly well. He has studied his art, and the easy quiet way in which lie says and d ues every thing, seems to insinuate to the audience, almost in an audible chuckle, " I know what I'm about." It is rigl.t that we should particularly no. ice the care that has been taken in getting up this tragedy. It is shame ful that while thousands are thrown away on the ornaments and deco rations of a paltry French melodrame, the works of Shakespeare hare hardly ever been honoured with a new stress, or a new scene. There has, in this instance, been a most liberal outlay on scenery, dresses, and decorations. Of the scenery we would particularly speak. The open ing scene, the fortress of Elsinore, the Queen's Chamber, and the an cient burying ground, where the funeral of Ophelia takes place, are most pleasing specimens of scenic painting, and infinitely creditable to the artists, the Messrs. Grieve. (From the Morning Herald.) Last night Mr. Charles Kean comtneuced his engagement at this 'theatre under the most gratifying and encouraging circumstances. An . audience, quite equal to any that could be drawn on a command night, and crowding every corner of thehonse, was, in itself, a tacit compli met:t to him, of the most significant and substantial kind, and the re ception with which it welcomed him, seemed, in enthusiasm, propor_ tioncd to 'its numeric magnitude. On his appearance simultane:nis shouts of eager applause burst from every part of the Theatre, and con tinued to peal for at least five minutes, hands, hats, and kerchiefs, ac companying than with their relative manifestations, making up, in one word, such a greeting as is reserved for special individuals and special occasions alone. All that was felt due to the - memory of the father, and the merits both known and anticipated of the son, was poured forth on the occasion. Mr. Keats seemed, as was natural, much airec:ed by this extreme kindness, and acknowledged it by silent gestures, equally mo dest and expressive. Hamlet • was judiciously chosen by him for this trial ; the part is made for. young tragedians, at the same time that it is the most severe touchstone of their qualificatiens. It is in vain that the veteran indi cates its delicacies and enforces its most potential situations—in the ab sence of youthful v i sage and figure the result appe ars anoma l o u s , an d mustbe, riot e. or less, ineffective. Mr. '-lean is much changed since his e, last appearance in London. He in every respect gives indications of the advances of maturity. His countenance is more marked in all its features than it was—his figure is mere set, and his style of art more characterized with permanence and consistency. He is, in every respect, what he premised to prove, his lather's son—a Kean in all but th e divine energy,of perfect originality, and a soul of unten, Pared fire. In sayi ng this w 9 have not the slightest intention to throw a shadow over his merits. lie is no imitator. He strongly resembles his fathe r i n appearance; his physical construction is undoubtedly much the s ame; his ample forehead indicates no common intellect, and hence he m a y be fairly supposed bo r n to similar tendencies of imagina tion and si m il ar modes of giving them expression. He is highly aecom. plished now in the practice of his profession ; his action is varied,quick, spirited, and at times classically graceful. lie inherits much of that de licate, di s ti nct, and melodious enunciation, which so peculiarly distin guished hi s greater prototype. His Hamlet was, on the whe7e, an tr:- mirable perfo rmancr, feeling, vigorous, and well understood. In its first phase, piteously despondent and p,iplexed ; in its second, assured and not assured, raging, yet feeble ; and in its third, unnaturally apa thetic of the past, morbidly and sardonic dly meditative until the final scene. In the soliloquies, that fine enunciation to which we have alluded, combined as it was with thorough impassioned expression, proved !nest effective ; and, indeed, in all the great scenes with the Ghost, with (aphelia, and with the Queen, Mr. Kean was greatly successful, and clic:ted frequent and ardent bursts of ap plause. His death scene was one of the best that this sta ge has witnessed, and was quite his own. He represented a s!ow and gradual severance of soul and body, with a touching truth. fulness which few can attempt without disgusting their audience. If we cannot speak more minutely on this occasion of the merits 05 this masterly performance, it is because the indifferent place we cold:. secure in the thronged theatre interfered most untowardly with our ob seivation. That circumstance must also curb some faint strictures winch occurred to us in the course of the evening. We would venture, how ever to suggest, that in the first ghost scene, Mr. Kean scarcely ex pressed that utter intensity of feeling, half delirium, which the &tux ion would naturally wring from Hamlet. In the second stage of the plot, is it quite judicious to give up the disarrangement of dress, to which Ophalia alludes, and which well betokens the abrupt, real, or feigned alienation of his wits ? In the last act does he not become somewhat too sound of intellect again—too seriously philosophical, and should not the ri.ymes " Imperious Cwsar dead and turned to clay, &c., as well as the sub equent, " Let Hetcutes himself do what he may,' &c., be given with some smadh OC the "antic disposition" of which Hamlet fore c.'artietl Ildratio ? ronarks, however, even if well founded, detract but triflingly from that general of :%It, Keast's performance hWla feiv Will refuse to concede. In respect td his 0c,,, , as with the Ghost, 0.6 nitist 9ilY Nat Mr. Coorrr was never intentie.: . ‘r a to ,, st • and should snake a very special blab,' of things eternal before he (....7`ulti harrow up any mortal soul. He spea.ks with tslt the inflections of or dinary speech, and may be surmised, has no fill° grave tore in its whole compass. Mr. K,an must have sadly felt the want of a properly blood-freezing spirit. The play was cast much in its usual calibre—Dowton being the Polonius, Miss Romer appeased as 0: helia, and, in her singing at least, proved cfficien , . Mr. King played Leertes, and Mrs. Tertian the Queen, At the full of the curtain there was an unanimous cad: for Mr. Khan s and upon his appearance before the cur tain all stood up, and all the enthusiasm of his reception was repeated, if possible, with increased zeal. Islever has a young actor received greater encouragement, and few, we believe, sell pftwe themselves snore worthy of the distinction than the individual to whom it was thus of. fered. Such houses at that of last night will, no doubt, be fur some time familiar to the walls of ntury, (From the Morning Past.) The old tittles Of Drury seemed last night to hdCe entre back again. .N.:.ver, in its most palmy ci3:i v did we witness a greater crowd—never more enthusiasm in an audience—and .carcely ever more success in a performance. It was gratifying to witness atl4se more such a house as sembled, to delight themselves with one of Shakspeafes plays, and that the play of Hamlet, the most refined, perhaps, and most frasching of them all. The house was crowded to the roof, and gave Mr. Charles Kean fi Vial'm a reception as it is possiiiiii So imagine that an actor could receive. He might well say, as his father diet hefore him, that "the pit rose at him." BUS it was not the pit alone, httt the whole house which rose, and by acclarnatlOns loud and long-continued, by waving of ha's and handkerchiefs, and by el'ary other possible demon. stration of welcome, testified their gladness to see Mr. Kean, or (as his Irish friends would say) to see his father's son. From the beginning to the end, Mr. Kean's performance was brilliantly suc cessful. We never saw an audience which seemed better pleased, and though we do not hold this as by any means an infallible criterion of an actor's merit it is one upon which much dependence may generally be placed ; and in the present case we think the decisive judgment of the audience was well borne out. We do not think indeed that the performance of Mr. Kean was without fault, or that all the parts of it which brought down great applause were en titled to the praise of the considerate and judicious; but, as a whole, the performance was striking, energetic, skilful, and undefinmed by any such marked blemish as would mar this general impression in the mind even in the most fastidious. Our readers are aware that there are two styles of performing Hamlet, which, like the two great divisions in the modern French literature of fiction, may be called the classic and the ro mantic. With n the memory of present audiences the late Mr. Kean was the most prominent representative of the romantic style; and the late actor--but, we are happy to say, the still_living private gentleman —Mr. Young was the most distinguished professor of the classic style. We shall now not enter upon the controversy as to which of the two general modes of performance ought to be preferred ; bOth have undoubtedly their excelences, and both their defects. An even uniform perform. ance, however well considered, however dignified in its energy and delicate hi its pathos, may be said to be scarcely applicable to one whom Shakspeare certainly intended should exhibit strong contrasts. " This is mere madness, And thus awhile the fit will work on him. Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden pinions arc disclosed, His silence will sit drooping." On the other hand, the imagination of most readers of sensibility has been so apt to associate the character of Hamlet with melancholy medi. tation, that persons of a pensive temperament are almost offended at any departure from the serious dignity and philosophic sorrow which are the pervading characteristics of Hamlet. He is the man so weary of the world and its sin that he wishes he were dead—who looks upon all the uses of this world as weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable. In this key is the character pitched ; and however airy, fantastical, satirical may be its occasional flights, to this deep note of melancholy does it ever return, and we feel that he has that within of killing grief "which passeth show." Of Mr. Charles Kcan's performance we should sly that he tries to combine the two styles of performance to which we have alluded; but he is an hereditary actor, and his nature leads him to the romantic. That style manifestly preponderates. He has evidently studied much, as well as gained much experience, since he last appeared in London, and the result has been remarkable improvement. In height, in gait, in expression of countenance, and, especially in voice, he is re. markably like his father. We should not say that the features of his face are like his father's, or so good; but the shape of the forehead is the same—the piercing dark eye is the same—and, above all, the voice, husky in its energy, and soft, distinct, and clear in its lower and m'rre subdued tones—is exactly that of his father. There were many passages—not those, we confess, which we liked best—in which the mannerism of the old favourite was so vividly brought to mind that the house rang again with applause. Indeed, it struck us occasionally that the audience were determined to enjoy two poets on one evening—that Rogers as well as Shakspeare had something to do with their delight—and that " The Pleasures of Memory," as well as " Hamlet, Prince of Denmark," occupied their attention, and contri buted to their satisfaction. We believe that, at the very commencement, Mr. C. Kean was somewhat overwhelmed with the enthusiasm of his re ception, and the extreme slowness of his enunciation, together with a certain tremulousness which may not have been intended, threw an ex pression of grief—almost sobbing grief—into his tirst speeches, that the best interpreters of the character have not, we think, contemplated. He speaks, indeed, of the "fruitful river in the eye'' as one of the shows of grief to which the Queen had referred, but it is scarcely consistent with his appearing in public at all that lie should then, while speaking, be almost weeping too. Mr. Kean's soliloquies, though well delivered, are not the happiest parts of his performance : and it was not until the interview with Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo, in which the appear ance of the Ghost is related to him, that the spirit of the actor fully showed itself: The " In my mind's eye, Horatio," which was, indeed, most like Edmund Kean's manner of delivering that passage, was lou:lly applauded ; and thenceforward, through all the action of the play, similar applause was elicited. It struck us that nothing could be more admirable than the conception of Mr. Kean's per formance when his companions find him out, after his interview with the Ghost. He played it as if, whe❑ first speaking to them of secrecy, he had intended to tell them all that he had heard, and with that inten tion begins— _ " There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark ;" but then, suddenly remembering the prudence of keeping his own secret, he turns it off with— But he's an arrant knave " Mr. Kean paused between these two lines, and delivered the second in quite an altered tone. The third act is the great trial of a performer of Hamlet, and Mr. Kean came well through that trial. Not that we think the famous soliloquy, beginning. `• To be or not to be," was given as well as Mr. Young used to give it, but from that forward the per. formance throughout the act was admirable, unless we should except what seemed to us a much too rapid delivery of that most Shaksperian passage— . . - " I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me. lam very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at My beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do era sling between earth and Heaven ? We are arrant knaves all—believe none of us." This was hurried over with such rapidity that the quickest ear could scarcely follow the words. But the speech to the players was given with delightful case and naturalness. The intensity of eager watch. fulness with which he regarded the King at the play, and • the exulta. tion of conviction with which he leaped up as the King bursts away conscience -struck, from the scene, were also most natural and vivid, and the whole of the scene with his mother was a triumph of bold, vigorous, judicious, and delicate acting. The voice of eager inquiry— the attitude—the depth of eager expression with which, when rett.r.i. ing from slaying Polonius behind the arras, he asks " Is it the King ? " was as successful as any piece of perform anoe we ever saw. In the dying scene we thought there was rather a needless protraction of the hideous pantomime of dissolution. Prince Hamlet died rather too elaborately, especially as Mr. Kean had presently after to appear before the curtain, to receive the renewed shouts of applause, and witness once more all manner of encomiastic gesticulation. We learned after weleft the theatre—we own, to our very great astonishment—that Mr. Kean had certainly never sem his father play Hamlet. We should have con cluded from his performance that he must have seen his father play the character often. Of the mac performers who assisted in Hamlet (except Mr. Cooper, who delivered very distinctly the sp2eches of the Ghost) we shall, in charity, say nothing. Had " the part of Hamlet" been " left out" it would have been but a sorry performance indeed, so Gar as the gentlemen were concerned. Mrs. Ternan played the Que, n extremely well ;we have not seen it better played Mis, Romer's Ophelia was well enough sung, but the charm of the characttr of Ophelia—the wild wandering of her innocent whs—does not seem levet to the apprehension of Miss Romer. Upon the whole, the performance of last night at Drury-Lane was, in technical phrase, so decided a hit that we apprehend few who ever go to a theatre at all will be satisfied without seeing it, and we expect that the engagement of Mr. Kean will be of the utmost advantage to the theatre. . _ • (Froth the Morning Advertiser.) . Last night, agreeably to announcement, the tragedy of Hamlct was represented at this house,for the purpose of again introaucing Mr. Charles Kean to the London boards, after an absence of five years. The character in which he ma .e this renewed debut, so to express our. .selyes, was the part from which this very celebrated and ever-tle,ightful tragedy takes its name, Hamlet; and the erred, if rumour be correct, (which, by the way, we are' disposed to doubt,) is the more creditable and bold in Mr. C. Kean to have made, on this further trial, inasmuch as it is one in which he never saw his father play. By such proceeding he nobly threw himself on his own po w e rs , on ly taking credit for the skill in acting,from those general principles which he might hare derived from his parent's observations, instructions, or example. The selection, supposing the rumour to be correct, we therefore deem to be highly cre ditable, and fairly putting to the test his talents. With Mr. C. Kean's person most play-going folks are now tolerably familiar. He hag loamy of his , father's points or habits—sudden starts, rapid and abrupt action, and, occasionally much energy of demeanour; he, moreover, frequently re minds one of the Miler's look ; and all these peculiarities make in favour of the son, because that which might appear like imitation in another, is not only pardonable, butprepossessing and very agreeable in the successor of so original, intellectual, and spirit-stirring a sire. But liberal as we feel disposed to be here of praise, we cannot award to Mr. Charles Kean anything like his thther's fine profile and magniti. cently intellectual countenance, rivett.ug all to their seats by the resist. less manner with which he ever identified himself with each character, and leaving the spectators no power to 'gee:Alan or examine the propriety of the mastery he had gain ad ,until long after time curtain had dropped. Still there are about' Mr. C. Kean, partictearly judging from last night's representation of Hamlet, the materials of a very eminent actor; and, we may add, that • his great, laborious, and various exertions " in the provinces," as the phrase is, have very much improved those qualities that characterized him when last on the London boards. He evidently spares nothing that work or study can accomplish ; well-judging that one good way to se cure success is to deserve it. He studies his author closely ; he seruti nizes his meaning, he is intrepid to an extent worthy of the first Kean, he is Hamlet the Dane, perpl, xed certainly, always resolving, never do ing anything, but a a Priece seeking to . avenge his father's death, and the robbery of a crowe—he never for a moment fargot the re quisites of the paasing scene, or the philesophic Hamlet of Sinks, peare's na.tchl: Fs delineation. Ant these great merits, we mey he say, having had the adrantaee of eceasimally seeing Mr. C. Kean ill the" miivinces" namely at Bath, Itrightoa, arc., invaria'•ly dis'in guish him, and have given us the hope that unccaing and caret,' study, based upon the principles lie possesses, and the example b.l re him, which the closer he hollows, the more he will be "applauded to the echo," would secure for him high, if nit la , ting favour with metropolitan, as well as other audiences. We have pre ferred, what may be termed a general sketch of Mr C. Kean's quali ties and recommendations on this re-appearance on the London boards ; but, although we have no great faith in the effect of a first night's result, when there appears so much excitemmt, an I do not like to examine the performer so rigidly as if there were not the strong ex. citement and pardonable partialities, and earnest and not always the most discriminating plaudits, it would be unjust not to add to our general remarks the expression of particular approbation of several of Mr. C. Kean's scenes and points in his personation of Hamlet. We would especially particularize the interview a ith the Ghost, which he, managed admirably, powerfully depicting the regardlosness of cause. quences, where he exclaimed that he cared not for the body's butt, and as for the soul he was indifrerent, it being " immortal" the Ghost could not affact that. This, perhaps, was his most conspicuous point ;—it was most powerfully • given, well con ceived, and still better wrought out. It was loudly applauded. He also, afterwards, adroitly conceale I from his companions Ghost's revelations; the scene d'salayed 111. eeor's skill. The inter. view with the Que_n (Mrs. Ternan, for nerly Miss Jarman) was most efficiently acted—his own soul being wrung with anguish while strik ing terror into the bosom of his hapless mother—it was a brilliant succession of the great ability and success evince', by h'.in in the play seene. The church-yard scene had about it excellent points and sell. Bible reading; but the memory of his father's great success here forcibly obtruded itself on the mind. We recollected present merit—but there was no: oblivion of the past; the scene, however, passed off well, and deserved the ri,ulause it experienced. The fencing scene was good and accomplished. Thd Close of his performance was greeted with tremendous applause, in Foxes, pit, and galleries, signified by the clapping of hands, waving of handkerchiefs, flourishing of hats, and loud exclamations of " bravo, bravo." It lasted for many minutes. He was vociferously called for. He came forward and respectfully and feelingly bowed, and i'eas again honoured with tempestuous plaudits. Of the other performers is not requiWe here to say much, nor will it be deemed neglectful of t.' , eir merits to pass them over, when speaking of a reappearance on the eases.. that, of course, attracting the chief, if not exclusive, attention ; but we cannot close without recording that the " gentle Ophelia" found be Miss Homer a very delightful representative, whether we refer to the prela minary scenes, or to those bewitching snatches of songs with which she imparts so much interest about her Lroken heart and bereaved state of mind, and touches most sensitively every sympathy among her be. holders. They were exquisitely managed ; with delightfail taste, with the greatest ease, or rather in the most natural manner, and with pathos of the highest order. We have not recently seen Ophelia to so much advantage. Well did the performance deserve the marked applause with which it was greeted. There Was much new, admirable, efficient, and magnificent scenery by Messrs. Grieve, of the platform of the Castle by moonlight, &c., which, though we hare not the time specially to notice, we cannot omit to ap plaud, nor to mention the loud greetings of approbation with which its merits were justly recognised by the audience. Previously to the rising of the curtain, the house was immensely crowded ; so much so, in deed, as somewhat to remind us of olden times, when, in the late Mr. Kean's high and palmy days, there were immense assemblages of per. sons across the streets, long before the opening of the doors. Last night, every part of the house was well filled immediately after the opening of the doors, and so continued. (ANOTHER ACCOUNT.) We have inserted the above report ; but we differ with it in many re spects. The appearance and reception of young Kean are matters of theatrical history. We have never seen anything, in the whole course of our theatrical experience, more splendid than the reception, or more sa tisfactory in the completion. Mr. Charles Kean fails in one main point, in which his father excelled all actors that we have ever seen — we mean the soliloquies—but, on the other hand, he is as superior in every other point, not only to his father, who did not like the pet, but to all the representatives of Hamlet that have ever come under our observation, as Hyperion to a Satyr. Shakspeare's Hamlet lives in the personificatian of Mr. Charles Kean, and of no one else that we have ever seer. What lie may lay before the public in another character we know not; but we state it distinctly, not as our own judgment only, but as that of many others equally competent, that a more brilliant per. formance—amore original performance—never met the eyes of a Drury_ lane audience than that of the son of the immortal XS'an, whom no one living can forget. To conclude—young Kean is the Doty representa tive or Hamlet we have ever seen ; and those who doubt our judgment had better go to the theatre and judge for themselves. The spirit and tone of the father are in him ; but there is not an atom of ineitatiun• ADEL PHI THEATRE. Last night a new burletta, by the author of Catching an Heiress, in one act, c died the Dancing Bar.ier, with dialogue, though perhaps no incident. sufficient for two acts at least, was p. - oluc d at this the.tre Alfred Fitzfrolic (Mr. Saville) is awaiting the arrival of a barber, who has been engaged to curl and properly adjust his hair previous to his de parture for a ball, which is to be given the same evening at the house of a gentleman with whom he is acquainted. The said barber di el not come, and Fitzfrolic, tired of waiting, desires his servant Betty to fetch some one else. She accordingly engages with, and ushers into her master's pr,•sence, . Narcissus Fitzfrizzle (Mr. H. Beverley), the dancing barber, who—whilst employed over the head of Fitzfrolic—betrays tile same propenisty which the greater portion, of his fraternity are sifted with—that of talking—and, after indulging in a great variety of amusing remarks, he mentions the theatres, Italian Opera, and the celebrated dansauses who have attracted his attention there, which reminds him of an i , controllable t hart' he has acqqui: - ed for " trippipg the light iantastle toe," whereupon he quits his business to enjoy pleasue, for awhile, aid capers about the room in a most f oli,ksome manner. Yitzfrolic ob serving the comic behaviour of his hairdresser, determines to make him the vehicle for a " little fun," and informing him that a ball is about to take place at his friend's residence, in duces him to dress as a gentleman and proceed thence, where be will be ah:e to enjoy, unmolested, his favourite acquirements. Fitzfrizzle makes his entr6e in the ball-room, and is introduced to a Mr. Dunderhead Twaddle (Mr. Wilkinson), a person (11- gaged to superintend the dances, &e., who, after some conversation, its which the former Assumes the name of Brown, the letter has reasons for suspecting the visiter tube Mr. Fitzfrolic, and therefore delivers into his hands two letters which he had been instructed to give to that gen tleman by Lady Emily Flitterly, the admired of Mr. F., and Mrs. Snaply, both members of the company. The letters, for the sake of caution or mystery, being only addressed Mr. F., the barber imagines that there can be no mistake, and opens the respective letters, when Fitzfrolic enters, and requests him to communicate secretly to Lady Flitterly and Mrs. Snaply that he is prevented from giving his attendance by an unforeseen occurrence. Whilst playing his part in a quadrille, he c(Fitzfrizzle) whispers the circumstance to those ladies, and is perceived by Lord Mincington (Mr. Yates), an admirer of Lady F. and Mr. Snaply, the husband of Mrs. Snaply. In consequence of this several ludicrous scenes took place, in which the poor barber is accused of seduction, and is threatened with a brace of pistols and a horse-whip by the two gentlemen, who considered them. selves insulted; when the two ladies who have been the cause of all en'er the room, folLavcd by the absentee Fitzfrolic, whose frolic is explained to t! e parties, when it appeals that the whole had been a scheme devised by him, and that the letters had been forged by a servant of his for the sake of carrying on the mysterious joke. A reconciliation ensues, Lady Fitterly's hand is given to Fitzfrolie at the consent of her brother, Lord Flitterly, who had also felt indignant at the conduct of the pseudo-gentleman, and Fitzfrizzle being forgiven by all, presents his cards (not u hich he had played) to the company, and the piece concludes, which was une quivecally successful, but would be more entitled to rank amongst the stock pieces of the theatre were it slightly curtailed. The burletta was well acted. A s the driver of the coast mail was pasting the toll bar at the top of Folkestone-hill, the horse became restise, and started at full speed down the hill. After great exertions by the driver to prevent it, the cart was overturned, throwing out the driver and another person with great violence some yards' distance, bat, we are gird to learn, with no further in jury than a few slight bruises. The cart and harness were both much damaged, but the hrerse escaped with very little injury. The bags, after a short delay, were collected and forwarded by another conveyance, but by the same driver. —Dover Chron. The current number of the Medical Gazette con tains a leading article on the use of arsenic in the preparation of candles, in which the facts upon which we have already dwelt are reproduced and enforced, the danger rasulting from the volatilization of the poisonous mineral is pointed out, and some facts 'are related in illustration thereof. Among these we find the following recent case of poisoning, which ter minated fatally. As it is very instructive, we copy it entire:— " Mr. Phillips told the committee of a case which occurred in 1836 at Falmouth. Mr. Beard, who was delivering a lecture on the gases at the Mechanics' Institute, inhaled a portion of arsenuretted hydrogen gas, and died about ten daylifterWards, in spite of medical assistance. The lecture was delieered on the sth of December, 1836, the experiments in illustration were performed on the .19th, when the fatal inhalation took place, and Mr. Beard died on the.29th." There is a case of fratricide of peculiar atrocity to be tried in Carlow at the next Assizes. The following extra ordinary circumstance has since led to the arrest of the ac cused parties :—A child of four years old, the son of the principal charged with the horrid deed, was heard' to say. in the presence of some strangers to the family, that . be thutOt he saw last night his father cutting his uncle's throat again. The pers n went immediately and told the police, who had the child taken and 'interrogated. He then stated that he re- Membered seeing his father and, his, uncle cutting , his . uncle L irrv's throat, and he lying in bed ; and that they then rolled him up in a quilt, and carried him out of the house, and that is hen they came back they buried the quilt. Search was made in thc spot where the child said it was buried, and there it was found, with the blood quite fresh upon it, although the murder had been committed four months previously. Under these circurnitam es, the two brothers and a niece, who was in the house, were arrested and comenitted fur trial. The e:tild was takcn to Dublia, and will be tlic principal evidence .gain‘t its wretched father at the coming Assizes: The un fortunate man who was mardsred was possessed of consider able property. which he always declared ho would 'cave to V legitimate children whom he had,--Dab!in Register. About two o'clock on Sunday Morning, information was brought to the Police-office 4hat a ie:an_of the name of Robert Bruce, a calico-printer, ha d been stabbetV in a dange rous manner in 'different parts of the body, at Cartlachte. Ca l tail Miller immediately proceeded to the spot, and was .'ngagcd all right in lie endeavours to discover the assailant. Hs was at last found ; but the story he gives is, that he rah as milted first by the person stabbed, and that if he did wound him it w's in self defence, as the man was above him at the time, and using tits utmost exertions to suffocate or " Burke" him, as the a'...cused expressed himself when apprehended. We nude. stand teat in the district where this occurred. violent ;op: watts :,re perpetrated ala.oit every night ; another evidence of the net essity of the extension of the police jerisdietien. G 1 rsguw Clarunide. . THE CAFFRE STAG.—The ()chir day tliete ar riveal, by the ship ilindostert, from the Cape of 'Goad Hope, one of the finest specimens of the C..ftee s . ag that has ever b_en brought to Europe. It was shot bt the Ca ; e some time since, mid stuffed there; but the b •-uty cif i!s apecae. ance does tv...t seem to have been at all injured, e;' l .e - by the operation of stuffing, or the voyage. which it has rn , de. The horns arc by tar the most beautlful that have vet been found on any animal of the kind, and are about two feet and a half in length. In consequence, however, of the size of the animal.. for convenience, the horns have been unshippal imt are to be restored as soon as it is teepee:iced, a• d placed where it is inteaded to be kept. On Saturday one side-of the b,x which contains it was taken away, and the animal shown to s_veral naturalists, and other gentlemen who were informed of its arrival and went to examine it, all of whom pronetinced it the largest and most beautiful speciscen of the Clare seag ver t) Europe. It is now deposit , din the baggegd a a .elemse at the West. Ltdi t Docks, In the nei;..;hhourliooti of Perth, last week, ititka of wild gos.?, were ob,erved taking a northerly direction—syMp.. toms commonly indicative of a continuance of mild weather. The Duke of Devonshire has been, apparently yids grent interest; superintending the conipleti,,n of the ircrrrnse and mignifieent ccwservatory'at Chatsworth. • This buildir g, .ben calqileted, will ba the fin,st of the description of any c.) , :servatory in England. The end will be Pppropriatcd as an avi try, in which rare birds will be placed. t at they may brcei, surrou,:d..d by the chuieest a xotics. Plan's, tAirubF, and II ..xers, from all parts of the habiti;b:e globe, hive been collected to grace this splendid fabric.—Derby Mercury. On Fr day night the Martha, of Gloucester, from [)roitaich, laden with salt, was run down in the rivcr Severn btu the Margaret, when unfortunately M: s. Glaqper, the wits of the roster of the craft, and her d4ughter, were drowned, the two ether persons on board bring saved with great &fa culty.— Worcester JoYrnal. VIE SUN ; LONDON, TUVSDAY,IANVARY 9,183 g.